


Dancing stars and pale moonlight (they are specks in your eyes)

by AspenTree0228



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Conspiracy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, In The Flesh AU, Internal Conflict, Partially Deceased Syndrome, Post-Zombie Apocalypse, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, maybe eventual Smut and Fluff I have no guarantee, or just, rising of the undead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-17 08:28:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4659708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AspenTree0228/pseuds/AspenTree0228
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I prefer PDS sufferer."<br/>"Well then, 'sufferer', what do you call those who suffer from your existence?"<br/>"I just want her back, how does she still not get it?"<br/>"Eventually, people forgive, they always do." </p><p>Or:<br/>Clarke and her fellow PDS sufferer friends travel to tell the chancellor about a conspiracy brewing in a rehabilitation facility. Lexa is a former Human Defense Army commander. When Clarke trespasses her town, they start off on a hostile ground.<br/>But the more they knew about each other's story, the more compassionate they felt to one another. Before they notice, their mutual understanding, compassion, and empathy have evolved into something else.<br/>And when the culprit's follower and radical HDA members track them down, Clarke is in grave danger (no pun intended). How will Lexa choose?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Run

**Author's Note:**

> So... ever since FTWD, I have this zombie fantasy stuck in my head. I also watched a short TV series "In the Flesh", and I just came up with a plot that I think makes a lot of sense to me. 
> 
> If you're not familiar with that show, don't worry, concepts will be explained as the story goes on, as well as many commandments or laws I made up for the plot.  
> I don't own anything.
> 
> I'm still working on the second chapter, so this is all I have now.  
> Test the water, teaser, whatever you call it I'm evil like that lol.

Full moon. Sky was its clearest in days, decorated by an illuminating strap of milky way, and thousands of faint celestial objects sprinkled on its steel blue canvas. A quiet rivulet traveled across the field, passing rows of willows that were just as silent, the only disturbance of their serenity were the critters who can’t stop singing praises for this wonderful summer night. 

It might be dark, but it was a colorful, colorful world.  

Well, maybe not to everyone, not to her. A brown haired girl, with a full head of intricate braids, sat at the small sandy beach of the river bank, listened to the relentless quarreling among the frogs and insects. She was absentmindedly throwing pebbles into the water, scattering fish and other lurking creatures who had fallen asleep in the cradle of mother nature. Her mind was in a turbulence, images of her friends and her foster sister, flashing behind her closed eyelids, and replaced by screaming faces, helpless hands, bloody torsos, crawling and clawing at her. She shuddered, and jumped up from the soft beach. The sands felt cool in between her toes, and she exhaled long and hard to pull herself back in time. 

“Damn it.” She threw a large stone to the other side of the river, it bounced on the hallow bark of a dead tree, caused a small turmoil in her surroundings, and her excellent hearing picked up strange noises behind her. 

Something was startled in the bushes, and broke a fallen stick. “Humph! Ouch—” 

“Who’s there!?” She unsheathed the dagger that she carried wherever she went, and braced herself at the sounds of the intruder. It was definitely a person, or something that used to be a person. She always assumed the worst case scenario, though it had been five years since the outbreak, and more than three since the government had it under control. Quick on her feet, she was like a panther stalking her prey. The blade of her dagger pressing close to the shadowy figure, hidden in the bushes, trying to run away from her. 

A girl’s soft voice panically screamed, “please don’t kill me!” 

Thin brows knotted together, she snatched the person out of the bushes. It was just a kid, red hair and brown eyes and muddy, like any other kids who liked to play out the countryside. But she didn’t recognize her. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” 

The white light reflecting off the blade made the kid swallow. She shuddered in the older girl’s iron clutch, whimpering. 

Tucking her weapon back into the sheath, the brunette asked again, “Who are you?” 

“Ch—Charlotte.” The redhead girl stuttered and squirmed gently away from. 

Under pouring moonlight, green eyes were sharp like those of an eagle. She scrutinized this pale, fragile girl from head to toe, and spotted something under the hem of her sleeve. She reached and peeled it up from the girl’s wrist, and saw a nasty scar across the thin wrist, stitched crudely like patching up an old pair of jeans. “You’re one of them rotters.” No way a surgeon would stitch a scar like this, unless it was done for a corpse. “Where are you from?” 

The girl pointed with a shaky finger, to a trailer park not too far away from the river bank. Only passerby's and a couple of homeless alcoholics occupied the several acres of abandoned land. Two or three dim lights were dancing in the distance. 

An impatient sigh was her acknowledgement. The brunette dragged the little girl out of the ditch, pulling the both of them on the road. 

“Ow! Hurts!” Charlotte yelped again, a sob broke out from her shivering voice. She sprained her ankle when she tumbled down from the slight slope, and her young face screwed in pain when this angry brunette woman showed absolutely no sympathy to her suffering. 

“I didn’t know rotters can feel pain.” Honestly, she didn’t. But her tone came out more like accusing than inquiring. And although reluctant, she couldn’t just leave a kid here, a rotter, but still a kid. So she gripped at the girl’s armpit to provide balance. 

Charlotte limped against her assistance, she mumbled in a timid voice, “I prefer PDS sufferer.” 

“What?” 

“PDS—Partially deceased syndrome. And we do feel pain, our neurons regenerate under the aid of medication, function just like yours.” Charlotte said with seriousness. 

It momentarily took her aback. Emerald eyes blinked several times to take in the undaunted words uttered by such an easily frightened girl, as if it was the truth. 

It _was_ the truth. 

Yet to her, to this town, to many who had been through the horror, truth paled in comparison to their pain. “Well then _sufferer_ ,” she replied, in a dismissive manner, voice frozen with unintended cruelness,  “what do you call those who suffer from your existence?” The corner of her lips twitched downward for a millisecond when she witnessed the smaller girl flex her jaw. Her words stabbed. Bitterness, like bile, was the taste in her mouth as she suddenly felt conflicted. Granted, she didn’t like them, for which she shouldn’t have to explain or would ever apologize. But things were different now, drastically, than during the outbreak. 

When they finally reached the trailer park in awkward silence, the girl flinched out of her hand, and jumped over to one of the most recently added truck, banging on the door. 

A woman’s voice appeared from inside, as well as some grumbling complaints of stray animals that had taken residency in the area. “Stop making so much noise, Charlotte.” Door flew open, and warm orange lamplight poured out of the trailer. It was a blonde woman, young, very young, and a bit irritated. She paused slightly to see the girl’s company, a displeased looking brunette. “Um, hi?” 

“Clarke!” Charlotte limped toward the blonde for protection. 

The stranger pointed at Charlotte, asking this woman named Clarke, who stood in the light and she couldn’t quite make out her face, “she your kid?”  

“I am her guardian, yes.” Clarke answered honestly, and pulled the girl up from the stairs. “Charlotte, I told you not to run too far.” 

“Keep an eye on her. A rotter shouldn’t be wandering the woods at night, gives people reasons to blow her head off.” 

Flabbergasted by the incredibly offensive slang term, the blonde gripped at the brink of the trailer door, “Excuse me?” 

Never even batting an eye, the dark haired woman turned to leave. She wasn’t going to defend herself for using the word, coz everybody else did, in her town anyway. And she definitely wouldn’t start calling them “PDS sufferers” just because of a little rotter girl. 

“Hey, you,” the soft but angry voice chased her down, and Clarke put her hand on the brunette’s shoulder, “I was talking to you.” 

The brown haired woman shrugged the hand off her body. She twirled around to face Clarke again, and this time, she got a better look at the woman standing in front of her. Green eyes fluttered over the blonde’s face, and they widened slightly, then they again gazed over Clarke, this time slowly, attentively. 

Under pale moonlight, and numerous faint stars, the golden tresses were tainted a bright hue that almost looked silver. Eyes colored a bizarre blue, and the moon’s reflections rested in the center of the azure irises, they were so beautiful that they looked unrealistic. A perfectly angled nose, a cute little mole sitting above the corner of thin lips… They moved, parted and closed, and words were rolling off of them. Angry words. 

She snapped her ridiculous thoughts out of her head. _“A cute little mole? Really?”_

“I didn’t take you as a crude person, but it was really rude of you. She is just a kid for god’s sake!” Clarke was berating this stranger woman like a protective mother bear. “Is that how people in your town welcome newcomers?” 

“How long do you plan to stay?” She asked without giving away her emotions. 

“We are waiting for our friends to catch up with us. Shouldn’t be long before we’re on our way.” 

Muscles in her jaw clenched, “good.” 

Embarrassment and anger were brewing in her chest, Clarke pursed her lips, scrutinizing this grim brunette woman before her, who seemed to have lost interest in their conversation. “Ok? But who the hell are you?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” She said before turning to take her leave again, “piece of advice, take your kid and leave. The Trikru’s HDA chapter will not welcome ‘newcomers’ like you with open arms.” 

 

Clarke looked on, mouth agape, as the slightly taller girl disappear into the trees quietly as a cat. “HDA chapter? What the fuck.” Cursing as she went back into the trailer, and paced around the tiny living room between bed bunks. 

A sleeping form stirred under the covers beside her as well as a not too happy groan. And moments later, the mountain of sluggish man sat up straight, running his hands over the small black curls on his head and then rubbing his eyes. “Clarke? Did you just say HDA?” 

“What’s HDA, Wells?” Charlotte asked him. 

The man frowned at the horrid memory of his encounters with radical HDA members. “Humanity Defense Army. The main chapters were dismissed since the vaccine was invented, but there are smaller ones still functional, and their agenda is pretty much the same, protect humans from…” He gazed at his blonde companion purposefully, and then dark eyes returned to the redhead, “This isn’t the most liberal county, we need to be careful, so it’s probably for the best if you hold up your appearance.” 

Charlotte stood in front of a mirror on the makeshift dresser, trying to take off her contact lenses. Once the dark colored lenses were off, she dared to take a peek in the mirror, blinking when tears threatened in her dried, sore eyes. Pupils shrunk to a pinpoint. Their irregular star-shapes were like nano-astronomic particles that had blown apart. And her irises, fainted reddish, a much lighter shade of her natural brown eye color, like blood blended in turbid waters. Of all the things she hated, grayish skin mottled with post-mortem bruises, cold fingers, numbed and chapped lips, hair reeked of formaldehyde, and so many other things that belonged to a dead person, she hated her eyes most. Then she wiped away the disguising mack-up, and mussed her hair up in a bun, waiting for Clarke to give her a shot. 

“It gets easier, you know.” Clarke whispered beside her ear, and carefully applied some alcohol at the back of the girl’s thin neck. She flicked the tube of solution to rid the air bubbles, and carefully lined the needle with the injection site. Though the small body before her remained perfectly still, she knew the kind of pain Charlotte had to endure. “When we get to the Capitol, the doctors there will help you adjust your medication, and then you’ll transition into biannual doses, and maybe even permanent chip eventually.” 

“It won’t apply to everyone.” Charlotte replied grimly, and sat by Wells on the brink of his bunk. “Wells, are you sure your father will help us, or even believe us in the first place?” 

He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, “you don’t have to worry about him. We just gotta focus on getting to the Capitol.” 

“I hope Bellamy travels fast.” Charlotte said wistfully. Wells went silent at her words. And Clarke winced at the mention of that name. 

 

********

“Penn, how was the treatment today?” An elderly woman was chatting on Skype with her son. She traced her thumb lightly on the screen, bringing herself another inch closer to the boy she loved and missed with all her heart. 

He looked tired, and pale. His hair was cut short like a soldier. “I’m doing ok, mom. Honestly, I don’t know what they are giving me now, but it feels stronger.” 

“But maybe it’s too strong? You don’t look well, son.” Indra asked worriedly. He looked even more frail than days before, worse than when he was on protocol treatments. Maybe it was the wrong move for him to sign up on “enhanced treatment” in the first place? She didn’t know exactly how the young governor Wallace had convinced so many PDS patients to do so, but his group was definitely onto something. 

“Don’t worry, mom. They said it’s normal to feel a little strange at first, it’s the only side effect of the drug.” Penn was chipper to talk to his mom when being held at the quarantine center of Mount Weather rehabilitation facility. He was originally scheduled to be discharged from the isolation ward and go home, but doctor Lorelei Tsing, a brilliant woman, as well as a very young apprentice, Monty Green, were developing a more effective treatment that promised to enable them to live, thrive, age and die just like normal people. So he signed himself up for trial, thinking that this way, he wouldn’t have to be a burden to his mother anymore. “Really, mom, don’t you worry. I mean, what could be worse? If it wasn’t for them, I would’ve still been a rabid rotter waiting to be killed a second time.” 

“Don’t say that.” Indra berated her grinning son. 

“Alright, alright, love you, gotta go.” Penn leaned forward to shut his device. 

“Wait! It’s not even ten minutes!” 

Penn remembered something suddenly. He knocked his forehead lightly, punishing himself for forgetting so much lately, “Oh, I almost forgot, our privilege for video chatting is cut short. There’s been a little incident.” 

“What kind of incident?”

“Dunno, heard some kid dropped out the trial without consulting the doctors. We have a curfew now, in case they go rabid and bite people in the night.” Penn was about to continue on how he had learned that from the gossips among regular treatment groups, but their video feed was cut off. 

Indra grabbed her tablet and tapped the call button several times. “Penn? Penn!” It didn’t go through again. She sighed heavily, and held her head. Something seemed off, and she couldn’t figure out what exactly. So with heavy thoughts, she pushed open the door of her cottage, and breathed in the fresh air. 

“Indra?” A soft voice made the woman jump, soon came a quick apology, “sorry.” 

Indra whipped her head to her left. In front of another small cottage that looked almost identical to hers, a shadow of a young woman sat on the doorstep with knees pulled under her chin, curling into a ball as tightly as she could manage. “Commander.” She softened her expression, and greeted the girl. 

“Come on, Indra.” The young brunette gave a reluctant chuckle, “I no longer shoulder the responsibility as HDA leader.” 

“As you wish _._ ” Indra said, and mimicked the girl’s posture, sitting on top of the stairs. “Couldn’t sleep?” And she regretted her question almost instantaneously. It was the five year anniversary of the fallen of their town, the anniversary of Lexa’s only sister. Just a few days ago, she was celebrating her son’s rebirth, alone, while the rest of the world was lamenting the lives lost to the rising of the ‘undead’. “I’m sorry, Lexa.” 

“Thanks.” Dark lashes trembled, the brunette girl couldn’t bare to look at the older woman. Lexa knew how much Indra cherished her son who died heroically in Iraq, and this second chance to have him back, she knew a lot more families in the country were just like that, but what she didn’t know, was how to feel about it. 

They sat in silence, in an air denser than before their brief conversation. Lexa glanced sideway at Indra, who was contemplating about her son. She had listened in on their chatting, for the night was all too quiet and the cottages weren’t exactly soundproof. And she was envious, that Indra still had a son, that Penn could still come home, whereas she, she had nobody, no home. “Excuse me, I’m going back to sleep.” 

Indra nodded, her eyes following the young woman with sorrow. She understood indifference was the best Lexa could do, and she was appreciative for it. 

 

In her house, Lexa stared at the ceiling of her room, shaking herself awake plenty of times before drifting into the unavoidable nightmare. But even with her eyes wide open, she could still see all the blood, blackish pools gurgling out of her friend’s carcass, and her other companion, torn apart in the small gather of starving crawlers. And the basket of fish they just caught were left in the mud, and trampled over by the crowd. 

_Running, running in the dark, running in the brewing stench of rotten corpses, running till she could no longer run anymore, but she kept going. Lexa was ahead of the herd she encountered on their way up the mountain. She tripped over her feet, and rolled down a small cliff, something snapped in her body, maybe a bone, maybe a joint, but she couldn’t feel anything. Her friends were gone. Their death bought her time._

_She had to go home, she had to get her foster sister._

_And upon the sight of their small cottage, painted a sweet bright beige color, and the lovely garden. Her heart sunk. On the beige walls, there were thick lines of black substance, windows shattered, door hanging on the frame by a nail, and the flowers all fell onto the ground, their stem broken and leaves ripped off._

_“No… no no no no no!” She sped up, only starting to feel the twinge in her side. And when she busted into the living room the two of them shared every night, watching television, enjoying a bowl of freshly cooked popcorn, the profane sight made her stomach churn in acidic rage._

 

In the neighboring cottage, the older woman sat in tears as she listened to the brunette girl’s wailing. Another nightmare, it sounded like. Indra had grown used to these harrowing whimpers that often intruded the quietness of her night. She cared deeply for the girl, but whenever she wanted to say something, Lexa would shut her out. 

Brave, that Lexa was, orphaned from birth, bounced between foster families, she grew like a pinewood. The colder the winter, the taller she thrived. Indra could never forget how much strength the lithe figure possessed, when she lifted up a hunting rifle and protected their town when doom was nearing. If it wasn’t for her, and a few fellow residents, there would have been even more casualties five years ago. 

However, the same bravery was poisoning. Lexa never talked about her feelings, feelings she was entitled to. She must hate the “rotters”, she had the right to. But ever since the scientists had developed a serum, and families started receiving notification of the return of their loved ones, Lexa resigned from the town HDA chapter. Never had she spoken ill of Penn, or the other kids that had returned from the control facility. The harshest language she ever used, was the ill-intended nickname. It wasn’t her fault either, neither was that of the living. 

Indra felt helpless. To her, loving her son wasn’t in conflict with her compassion for Lexa, but to other people, to Lexa, maybe it was. There wasn’t anything she could do, other than guarding the girl from a distance, and waiting for the nightmare to end. 

 

_It was, however, an everlasting dream._

_A rabid rotter had latched its mouth on her foster sister’s arm._

_Catching a glance of her younger sister, the blonde yelled in pain,“Lexa! Run Lexa!” While fighting off the undead monster, the older girl limped to the other side of their house._

_“No, I won’t leave you!” The younger girl snatched a baseball bat, and bashed at the thing. A blow to its head had it gone completely limp. She lunged forward again, pulling the other one from her sister’s leg. It turned around and snarled at her._

_That moment, a snarling angry rotter turning to her, was one of the most heart-wrenching moment that would forever haunt her in the deepest slumbers._

_The rotter’s face was half peeled off by natural decay, the other half muddy and bloody, pinpoint pupils of a blown star shape, irises a light pink that faded from their original breathtaking brown color, slick, black, odorous hair almost all fell off the rotten scalp._

_Lexa jumped backward three feet, and screamed in horror, “Costia!?”_

_Even like that, she would always recognize the sweet, sweet girl who she grew up with. Costia lived in the next town ten minutes on bike away from her house. They went to the same kindergarten, the same elementary school, same high school, and Lexa had a massive crush on her. When the devastating news came, that the teenager was raped, beaten, and left dead on the side of a country road, Lexa cried for months to no end. Just when she was finally coming out of the dark place…_

_The rotter Costia clearly didn’t recognize Lexa, and it charged toward her with malice hunger dripping out of the blood-shot eyes. Green eyes shut tightly as the brunette prepared for her own destiny. But the inevitable never came. A loud thud reverberated in her eardrums, she dared to open her eyes and peer at the world._

_Her sister had dragged the rotter backward. And in a split second, the enraged thing bared its rotten teeth at the older sibling, jumping on top of her, and sinking a bite on the blonde’s neck. Its head snapped away, tearing a big chunk of flesh off the human, and blood was shooting up staining the walls._

_A drip landed on her cheek. Lexa watched in horror as her sister fell to her side in a pool of her own blood. “Anya!!!”_

_“Leave…me…” Knowing it was the end for her, Anya pleaded her little sister. A tear, curiously clear, slid down her tainted face. More blood gurgled in the back of her throat, and she started to lose her consciousness. “Live, Lexa. Live…”_

_“No! Anya no!!! ANYA!!!”_

_Another loud clash came from the kitchen, and two more rabid’s stumbled inside. Lexa leapt for the only exit that wasn’t blocked by a savage rotter. She landed in the back of their garden, and pushed past the tangling thorns on the fence, running into the shadow and darkness._

In her subconsciousness, Lexa almost acknowledged the reality that she didn’t have to run anymore. There was nothing else to lose, nothing but herself. Yet, she just kept running away. 

 

_********_

Running, running again for the countless time in one day, he could taste the rusty texture of blood in his throat. Under the lush canopy of the forest, he moved discreetly through the mountains. Earlier this evening, as he climbed up a steep hill to observe the roads ahead, he saw some suspicious activities on the main highway. Two or three of the cars with government plates parked together, and small tents erected from the ground under the foot of the mountain. 

They were caught up. More reinforcement was on the way, he presumed. The sky was turning a color of chilly blue, hours later the sun would come out. They need to hurry now. 

He finally rushed back to where their vehicle hid, in an abandoned farm house. Opening the door as gingerly as he could manage, he gently shook the form of a girl curling in the backseat. “Octavia, wake up.” 

The brunette quaked, and shot up from her slumber, bumping into a broad chest and a set of muscular arms. “Bell!” 

“Shhh… shh it’s me, Octavia, it’s me.” Brown eyes were unfaltering as they met the fainted hazel ones. 

“Lincoln…” Octavia heaved, feeling disoriented. “Where are we?” 

The inquiry induced another cold sweat on the back of his neck. She was getting forgetful, being on and off the enhanced medication was taking a toll on her already fragile body. 

“Wait, wait don’t tell me. We’re close, aren’t we? To your village?” She faintly remembered it had been days since her unannounced dropout from the facility. 

Lincoln replied as he started the car, “We’re not going to my village. There are road blocks and check points before us, we’re taking a detour to Trikru county. Clarke should still be waiting for your brother.” Their original plan was to have Bellamy catch up with Clarke and Wells, while he took Octavia back to his home. It went out of the windows when the curly haired man got stalled by suspicious guards. Earlier today, he still saw a chance to leave Octavia in his uncle’s custody. Nyko’s mansion had the legality of housing recovered PDS patients, and with a signed paper from Octavia’s appointed guardian, Bellamy, Nyko would be a sufficient sponsor to prevent the government from taking Octavia away. 

Now he shouldered the responsibility to protect Octavia, and to help his friends. “Don’t worry, Bellamy will be ok as long as he keeps off the radar. I’ll find you and Charlotte a safe house.” Though, he contemplated, it was going to be difficult, to search for another government approved PDS sufferer housing _and_ a suitable guardian who would take them in. 

Octavia didn’t say anything. She just put on her contact lenses and watched Lincoln drive. He looked emaciated, eyes sunk into deep sockets, cheeks hollow. How long since the last time he had slept properly, eaten properly? She didn’t need perfect memory to do the math. Five years. 

Cold fingers dusted the side of his face. Lincoln smiled weakly, and pressed his warm lips to the grayish skin of the slim hand. He loved her, no matter who she was, _what_ she was, he always loved her. 

 

********

“Abby,” Raven called, observing the older woman carefully. She leaned her crutches on the wall, and put her hand to a thin shoulder. “you’re fidgeting again. I’m sure it’s nothing.” 

“Wells hadn’t called in weeks. He promised me.” Abby bit her lower lip, her voice quivering a little. 

“Well, what about the last time he called? He said Clarke’s been a great peer worker, and they were going to house a younger girl.” 

“I just don’t get why she had to live so far away to punish me. She knows how Cage Wallace’s attitude toward PDS sufferers concern me.” Abby pushed away the bowl of cereal in front of her, not trusting herself to stomach the breakfast. “She still hates me.” 

Raven sighed quietly. She was there, when the Griffin family fell apart. “Abby… you know Clarke. She doesn't hate you, she’s just, stubborn, and she fears that she had let you down.” 

Abby sniffled, “I just want her back, Raven, she’d never let me down. How does she still not get it?” 

“She will. Eventually, people forgive, they always do. Trust me on this one, Abby.” The younger woman cooed reassuringly, and plastered a small kiss on Abby’s hair, “Now eat your breakfast. We can later ask Chancellor Jaha if his son had called.” 

 

********

Regarding Partially Deceased Syndrome sufferers. 

**Commandment Number 1:**  

    All PDS patients must receive treatment until they regain mental capability and stability. 

 

 

\--------

 If you have bold insights or wanna venture a guess on where this goes, I take advices and asks on [Tumblr](http://asiangal-needs-a-pal.tumblr.com/) :)


	2. Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been forever...!  
> A lot happened... break-up, school, work... Ugh, life! 
> 
> Well anyways, I have my excuse this time. Not only college, but I also broke a metacarpal bone in my hand. So typing one-handed is kinda difficult.

“Bellamy, pst.” From behind, a small voice called at him. The janitor snapped his head to see Monty peeping out from the bathroom. 

Bellamy put his hand on his left chest, and let out an exaggerated exhale, “This is the third time you almost gave me a heart attack, Monty.” He put down the bucket of water, and followed the younger man into the restroom, sparing a glance at his fellow custodian. The elderly worker rolled his eyes. Bellamy pulled a sour face, well, it was definitely suspicious activity, for two grown man to be constantly making surreptitious eye contacts in the hallway, and sneaking around empty bathroom stalls. 

There already had been rumors about his preference. And the other day he waited in line of the cafeteria, a young guard, some Murphy guy, was looking at him weirdly. 

Just as he was about to request they have conversations in a more proper setting, Monty cut him off. 

“Bellamy, I caught a glance of Lincoln’s car at the surveillance camera.” 

“Where are they? Did he take my sister to his village?” Bellamy eagerly asked. The discontent of their misleading bathroom meetings was completely abandoned when he thought of his little sister. Octavia, everything he did, from the day she was born, he did for her. Now, Bellamy grimly contemplated, he had to trust another man to protect her. 

Monty scratched his head, “I’m sorry, Bell, he was driving to the west, to Trikru county. He must went searching for Clarke and Wells. I also heard that Tsing had updated Cage, they sent out a team to track them down.” Monty started to recall the conversation Cage, Tsing, and Emerson held that he eavesdropped on. 

 

_A middle aged man paced to and fro in the confinement of the laboratory, he stopped once in a while to inspect his reflection in the greenish glass tank of formaldehyde. A torso floated towards him, and its dead white face turned. He jumped backwards and yelped. “Phew, it’s like a fucking Resident Evil movie.”_

_The other man, in a bullet proof vest, snorted a laughter at his comment._

_Cage continued to groom the slick gray hair on his temples. “Doctor Tsing, what’s the update on our… project. Any victories?”_

_“Sir, everything looks just fine. All the setbacks are within the range of what we expected. The subjects are showing a great tendency of obedience, as well as memory rewiring. Though, there is one group of subjects that are not making particular progress… and Octavia Blake has not been spotted yet.” Tsing fumbled through her paper records and responded with a slight elevation of worry._

_“We’re tracking her, sir. It’s certain now that Lincoln knows something. He was probably spying on behalf of the Council, and he stole Blake’s original discharge paper from her brother, Bellamy Blake.” Emerson filled him in._

_“And you’re sure the brother is not aware?”_

_“Quite positive, sir. He’s just a high school dropout, working as a janitor here, didn’t even know his sister was missing from the trial.”_

_Cage contemplated Emerson’s confident words. Then he said warningly,“It’s a sensitive time, keep an eye on him anyway. Wells Jaha and the peer worker must be Lincoln’s accomplice, we cannot risk letting them slip away and go blabbermouth to the Chancellor, not before the project is finished. Do you understand?”_

_Emerson immediately straightened solemnly, “Yes sir! We have everyone on deck at the communication center. The second they make a call to the Capitol, we’ll be able to triangulate their location and eliminate the threat. And the patrol squads are spreading to every county in our state, they won’t get away.”_

_Nodding, the gray haired man wandered over to the blackboard where they kept track of each subject in trial, “you said there’s one group lagging behind on the progress, who is the leading laboratory technician?”_

_Emerson answered, “Monty Green.”_

_“Ah, the Chinese boy.”_

_“Korean, actually.” Tsing corrected, but as soon as she met the governor’s dismissive stare, she shut her mouth, not daring to speak without permission again._

_Cage ran a hand through his hair again, “Do you suppose this Monty Green knows what the enhanced treatment is targeted at?”_

_“You’re saying that maybe he tipped off Lincoln?” Emerson followed, “but what’s it in for him?”_

_Tsing valued her apprentice, for he was the most talented kid she had seen in decades. Without his help, they never would’ve in the first place made the breakthrough to treat so many PDS sufferers, which also served as the foundation of today’s greater plan. “Monty is being cautious about the treatments. His trial has the lowest incidental death rate, and perhaps it’s a valuable lesson to the other technicians too. After all, we need more manpower, not less.” When Cage squinted at her with intense interest, she darted her eyes away, and submitted, “I’ll check up on him regularly.”_

_“Good.” The governor checked his watch, and decided he should leave for dinner, “one more thing, doctor Tsing, you have the permission to proceed to the next stage.”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

_In a neighboring lab, Monty held a tablet as he listened to their conversation. Earlier this year, he had installed a small audio monitor on a remote controlled car and stuffed it in the ventilation shaft. Lincoln expressed his concerns when they met for treatment plan regarding Octavia’s fluctuation in the enhancement trial, and he was suspecting foul elements in the serum. He knew Cage and his culprit held regular meetings, off the book, each week, and Wells was particularly interested in these secretive gatherings._

_It turned out, the more he listened, the clearer it all became. It had been a conspiracy, all along, for Cage to challenge the nation’s unstable political structure after the “rising”. And it could be detrimental, not only to the current leaders, but also to hundreds of thousands of families of PDS patients._

 

“Damn it!” Bellamy pounded his fist in the tile wall, his face red in rage. “There’s no way they’re already out of the state. I shouldn’t have let them wait for me.” 

“Bellamy, you can’t blame yourself for that. It’s an ever-changing situation.” Monty tried to offer consolation. 

“Are you absolutely, one hundred percent, sure, that Wallace had people tap all the communication network?” 

Monty nodded disheartened, “Controlling information is the first step in modern warfare. Also, Bell, they’re gonna proceed into the third stage, I don’t even know what that is, but Wells is running out of time.” 

“I need to get to them. There’s no way Wells can handle it all, he’s too much like his father, there are certain lines he won’t cross.” Bellamy clenched his jaw. 

“Lincoln is gonna help them. He’s a soldier he knows what to do.” 

“He has too many people to take care of, my sister, Charlotte.” The janitor fumed, his brain constantly overloading with all kinds of crazy ideas to escape this hellhole. 

Monty wasn’t going to allow him. They needed Bellamy safe, Octavia needed him. He had always been her rock, during their hard time growing up, and during her recovery. If he fell apart, Monty feared that she would give up as well. “You need to be careful yourself. It won’t do them any good if you get caught. It’s not just Lincoln, Clarke will take care of them too.” 

The crease in between his brows fluttered at that name. It still stung, after five years, he still had a hard time letting go. Once, he let himself hate her, for not even giving a damn about the consequences her recklessness would bring, for taking away the most precious person in his life, for breaking his heart twice in one night. But then, the second he saw her—lying on the experiment table taking a large dose of tranquilizing medication, frail and pale, wailing like it was the ninth circle of hell—he knew he couldn’t hate her anymore. 

It didn’t mean he could talk to her, joke with her, hug her, or even look at her the same way ever again. 

At last, under Monty’s knowing gaze, he chocked out, “Yeah, she will.”

 

********

“We’re here.” 

Car pulled up to a curb, in the several feet of its headlight, the tarmacked road had vanished and only a narrow ditch took its place, leading into the mountains. Trees that had grown up to a formidable height blocked away the last drip of moonlight, their black shadows threatening to devour lost animals and desperate wanderers. Creatures of the dark lurked in the lushness of its canopy, often making rustling noises in the nearby plants. 

When night breeze bawled in between the dormant giants, even birds would not dare flying over the ridge of these mountains. No sane person in their right mind would challenge this invincible force of nature. 

But for him, the only way was forward. 

Lincoln knew they had no choice, not anymore. With the roads patrolled by Wallace’s guard dogs, they had to conquer the mountains to get to Trikru county. When he was a kid, he and his uncle had taken an adventure into the mountains. They spent three days in the woods, digging ginseng and other valuable herbs for Nyko’s traditional medicine practice. “Ok,” he took a deep breath in, and fished out his flashlight, “we can do this.” 

Octavia gripped on the dashboard of the car, as she watched him organizing their meager belongings. 

He took only the necessities, a water bottle, a few strips of dried meat, lighter, two sets of unusable radios just in case, a taser, and a handgun with a few rounds of bullets. His clothes were abandoned, the bag was mostly occupied by Octavia’s medication shots. And he draped a jacket over the svelte girl’s arms, protecting her brittle skin from the branches and tall grass sticking out from the sides of the path. “O, it’s as far as the car can go. It should be a two day walk through the mountains to Clarke and Wells’ camping site.” Two days for him, but he knew Octavia wouldn’t be able to keep up in her current condition. As long as it took, he told himself, as long as she needed. 

She threw her legs over the brink of the truck, feeling like herself once in a god-knows-how-long time. Granted, the unknown frightened her, herself, frightened her. But it was not time to cower in the face of fear. Lincoln needed her to be ok, Clarke, Wells, and her dear older brother needed her to be ok. “It’s fine, Lincoln, let’s go.” And she chuckled when he eyed her in concern, dark brown orbs watery as always, reflections of the moon so bright in the center of gravity, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

The corner of his warm lips twitched and tipped into a gentle smile, “You amaze me, Octavia.” Her pain, her suffering, the hardship she had endured and the strength she showed during these perilous undertakings, those were unimaginable fro him. “I’m so lucky to have you back.” 

“Get beat down, get back up.” Octavia thrusted her fists in the air, and mockingly showed off the remaining fibers of her biceps, “I’m a soldier’s girl after all.” 

A rare laughter rumbled off his broad chest. Lincoln was feeling courageous again. When everybody thought that he was her rock all along, they were mistaken, she was his rock, his courage, his life and so much more. He contemplated that while killing off the engine the headlights and pulling some weed to cover their vehicle. 

Octavia ventured ahead of him, gingerly poking the narrow path with a stick, “Come on, Lincoln, time for a workout.” 

 

*********

“Well well well, look who we have there, howdy, the one and only Commander?” 

The first to greet her when she strode into the convenient store was Quint, the town’s used-to-be infamous biker. He held his tattooed arms in front his chest and quirked a brow at the young woman, his cleft chin tilted and his bald head glittered under the florence light of the aisle he occupied. 

Lexa was never inclined to give him the time of her day to get into a verbal back-and-forth. Anything from his mouth, even a well respected title Trikru’s people honored her with, sounded like mocking, if not an ill-intended sneer. “Quint.” She acknowledged him with the most neutral tone she could manage, and dodged behind a row of shelves under his malice staring. 

As current leader of the HDA chapter in the town, Quint envied this young girl who was only half his age. 

Before the “rising” he was one of them bikers traveling in between a few cities in the area, a gambler, a risk taker, a drifter. While pretty much everybody else felt like the apocalypse was something they desperately wanted to forget, he was somehow thankful for it. At the time, he was broken, all his money spent away, belongings pawned, and the few thousand bucks he got from selling his precious Harley Davidson couldn’t even start to fill the bottomless hole of his gambling debt. Being one of the Human Defense Army soldier saved him, killing “rotters” saved him, and people started to look at him differently. He enjoyed it, while it lasted. However, ever since the government had passed laws, published commandments regarding “rights” for the “PDS sufferers”, he started to lose his sole purpose amongst the residents. And he was too lazy to look for a job, so he advocated for preserving their own chapter of HDA, and claimed the throne when Lexa quit, starting to live off taxes from the local people who were still scared of the alleged “second surge” of the undead. 

He envied Lexa, not because she had more money or an easier life than him, no, because she obviously didn’t. He envied her because how the people looked up to her, as if she was still their leader. They paid her respect that he had never gotten in his entire life, they listened to her during monthly scheduled town meetings, and they followed her. _She’s just a kid._ He often thought to himself, and felt more acid burning in his stomach. _I should be the one they follow, I have power now, I am their leader._ He had been seeking for an opportunity to dethrone her for a long time, even when he knew she had no intend of competition whatsoever. 

Rounding the merchandizes, Lexa arrived the air for body and beauty, aiming for the shampoo she always used for her brown mane and the conditioner that made her intrinsic braids possible. A strangely familiar voice rang in her eardrum and she halted dead in her track. 

“Clarke, this isn’t my color. It’s more brownish.” 

It was Charlotte, the little rotter girl. Lexa furrowed her brows. _What business on earth are they still doing here?_ She decided to investigate, peeping through the bottles from her side of the shelf to the other. There again, she saw the blonde with sky blue eyes, eyes so shiny they seemed peculiar. 

Clarke held two different types of colored contact lenses next to the younger girl’s face, comparing the two. She was, like her usual self, nagging a little as she nitpicked, “Char, this isn’t the facility, or the Capitol, be thankful they have contact lenses at all.”

“It’s not like they have _zero_ PDS recovered in this town.” Charlotte tilted her sunglasses off her nose bridge and browsed over another category of products, and dusted her fingertips on the column with variants of blue. 

Clarke patted her hand from contaminating the lenses, “It’s not like they lose theirs on a daily basis.” 

“Whateves, Clarke.” Charlotte rolled her eyes behind the sunglasses, though Clarke couldn’t possibly see that, but she trusted the blonde had gotten the gist of it. “Look, this is perfect for you!” She pointed at one of the collection. 

“That’s fine, I wouldn’t be needing them.”  
“You speak like you’re better than everybody else.” 

Their little quarrel attracted not only Lexa’s attention, but also Quint’s. He squinted at the suspicious pair, and quickly approached. “Whatcha gals trynna find?” Cocking his head to one side, he was observing, trying to decipher whether these strangers belonged in his territory or not. 

The blonde fluttered her gaze to the bright yellow armband on his muscled arm. In bloody crimson, it wrote, “HDA”, with a titled rank on top. And the moment she recognized the rank of Lieutenant—two rifles sitting on a coffin—she knew they were in trouble.  

“Hey, what’s y’all called?” Quint pressed forward, his presence becoming suffocating. The mountain of his entire being casted a shadow on the girls. 

“Look, we don’t want trouble, we’re just trying to get what we need.” Clarke stood up to him, puffing her chest to make herself look bigger. Her effort was off little use though, because no way in the universe she could overpower this gigantic gorilla. 

Quint snorted out his famous sneer, “Colored lenses and makeup huh? Just another day for the city girl scouts.” 

The back of her thighs were already touching the commissaries’ counter. Clarke gripped at the table for leverage before she tripped over. If she could sweat, she mused, her shirt must be drenched in perspiration by now. And all of a sudden, she could almost remember what it felt like to be sweating. 

Green eyes, like those of an eagle, trained after Quint’s back. Lexa ground her teeth, irritated by his highly inappropriate behavior. Before she could catch herself, she had already taken a step pass the shelf to reveal herself; and again, she was speaking, “Just another day for the street bully, hmm Quint?” 

The small commotion was causing the shop owner to step away from the register and check out what was going on. And Quint knew, quite certain, that this Ryder boy had a massive crush on the brunette, and was ready to defend his goddess like the rest of the creepers who worshiped Lexa. So he raised both his palms in the air, “I was just trynna be friendly to some new friends in town, Alexandria, but if you insist, I can be rude too.” And with a vile smirk, he strolled away, grabbing a pack of cigarette on his way out. 

A shaky breath escaped her lips, Clarke swore that her heart might have stopped, again, rhetorically speaking. _At least I still got my impeccable humor._ She straightened up and was ready to thank the brunette for saving her ass. And now she knew her name, “Doesn’t matter” was now Alexandria. “Hey—”

One syllable was all she allowed Clarke to voice, Lexa was dragging the both of them out by the arms, storming pass a startled Ryder. 

“What the actual hell?” Clarke shrieked. She massaged the sore spot where Lexa’s iron claw gripped her. 

Only when the lithe arm squirmed out of her hand, did Lexa register her mind on the strangeness. The blonde was cold to the touch, cold, pale, and brittle. As she leaned closer again to study the mark left by her fingers, she found the skin was slow to spring back to its natural form, and the marks were purplish, like post-mortem bruises she had seen on so many rotters. 

Clarke was once dead. Clarke was one of them. 

The realization made her take a step back. A quick glitter of fear rippled in lake green orbs, Lexa felt defeated. For what reason, she couldn’t quite understand, but surely she was disappointed in herself. Of course, how could those enchanting blue eyes belong to a normal person? She had never seen a shade of near-indigo like that, ever. Now it was staring back at her, the blue of some extraterrestrial existence, of such an unnatural beauty. 

“Can’t you use words?” Clarke was getting tired of this inhumane treatment. The first time Alexandria left, without saying anything, which she could tolerate, but now she was acting like a total savage. 

“Words are clearly overrated.” Lexa gnawed, “I told you to leave. I told you this town does not welcome homeless rotters like you.” 

“We’re _not_ homeless. A human chaperon is with us and I am a certified peer worker. And we don’t intend to linger either, but there are complications with our plan.” Clarke shielded the little girl with her own body under the brunette’s scrutiny. She held her ground, she wasn’t going to get stared down by the forest green eyes. “Please, we’re really trying, that’s why we spend hours applying make up and contacts everyday. Just let us get what we need, and I promise you won’t be seeing us again.” Though, she didn’t know how to hold up her end of the promise, because she had no idea when Bellamy would show up and what would they do if he didn’t. 

Those pleading blue eyes, Lexa swallowed thickly upon the sight. They were artificial, but in an unthinkable way, they were intensely sincere. Especially when fair lashes fluttered as they blinked, coating a thin sheath of vapor on the surface. How was that possible? For emotions, feelings, thoughts, so human to penetrate the artificialness? There was a glimmer in the black center of the pupils that almost looked hopeful, but the ripples surrounding the irises were reflecting an inkling of sadness, an emotion that she recognized too well. But wait, Lexa felt the urge to correct herself, not a mere inkling of sadness. It had depth, layers, powerful tides and invisible currents stirring underneath. It was an ocean of sadness. 

“Please…” Thin, grayish lips parted again, and breathed out the plea. Clarke was pretty used to standing up for herself, calling out people who mistreat and discriminate the PDS sufferers, like she did the other day with this brunette. But here, in a strange town as an intruder, and now, everything preluding a impending disaster, she couldn’t afford more complications. Clarke softened her eyes and her voice, extending the olive branch that she hoped the young woman would take. 

Lexa regarded the blonde for a long while. Not knowing what kind of emotion she was feeling, and tired of investigating her constant confusions, she darted her eyes away, so Clarke’s rippling reflection disappeared from the surface of those green lakes. The slight clench of her boney jaw was the only change in her expression before Lexa murmured, “wait here,” and swiftly entered the store. 

Charlotte dared to peel herself away from Clarke’s shadow, and watched as the brunette go. “She…is kind of intense?” The girl commented hesitantly. 

Nodding in agreement, Clarke chewed her bottom lip mindlessly. But not in a bad way, she noted to herself. At least, when they needed someone to step in, Alexandria did. 

“And pretty too.” 

That captured the blonde’s attention. She snapped her head to the side, and tipped her brows together. 

Charlotte gave her a shrug matter-of-factly. 

As if it was some kind of freaky coincidence, as the brunette reemerged from the shop, carrying a small box of product in her hand, a gentle breeze assaulted from behind. It rustled her thick brown mane. A few tresses fell in her face, framing the prominent bone of her jawline. The sun was beating down with unrelenting warmth. Lexa was frowning a little, and eventually raised her free hand to the arch of her brows, creating a small shade. It made the wrinkles relax, and she no longer looked angry. Shadows and light painted the delicately flexing muscles in her arm, and the steep angle of her nose, the plump, lively, glistening flesh of her lips… She walked swiftly, agilely, elegantly, towards the pair standing on the curb of the convenience store. 

It was almost as if the woman was approaching her in slow motion. Clarke couldn’t look away, couldn’t spare the tenth of a millisecond to blink. Her eyes greedily took in every little detail of the way Lexa moved. The only thing she could control, was her dropping jaw, which, fortunately for her, she caught herself and picked it up before it hit the floor. 

Lexa did one more thing after she escaped the sun, threading her long fingers through her hair and combing the strands behind her ear. 

And Clarke heard a strange choke at the base of her throat. 

Presenting the small box to the blonde, Lexa remained an uninterested look. She was careful when she handed the product over, to not touch hands with Clarke again. 

A standard concealer package for light skin tone and brown contact lenses. Clarke read the wrap, while trying to ignore the slim, tanned fingers quickly retrieving from hers. It didn’t bother her, or it shouldn’t bother her—it was stigmatized for many people to be in the proximity of a PDS sufferer—still, the slight pinch in the pit of her stomach counteracted with the bubbling excitement she just felt upon the sight of this beautiful brunette girl. “How much is it? I’ll pay you.” She blurted out. 

“It’s fine.” Lexa shook her head once from side to side, “now go.” She wasn’t going to give Clarke the chance to fish out her purse or make unnecessary small talks. 

Another slight breeze, this time was the brunette turning to leave. Clarke couldn’t quite understand the fine little sensations she felt on her skin. Normally, her arms, the back of her hands, her neck, her cheeks, all felt dull. But as Lexa’s braided hair carried a waft of air, she felt it, and more than that, she had goosebumps along the trail. “Th-Thank you, Alexandria.” Finally, before the brunette stepped off the curb completely, Clarke stammered behind her. 

“Lexa,” was the simple response. 

“Uh what?” She almost face-palmed herself for sounding so stupid. 

There was a small hesitation in the svelte body. Lexa couldn’t quite comprehend her own conscious decision. “My name is Lexa.” She said it, much quieter this time, but it still felt strange, as if she was ever going to see Clarke again. 

A silly grin started to split the corner of her lips. Clarke held onto the small package tighter, till her fingertips hurt. Even in the chill shadow of the tree, she felt the sun dribbling on her cold skin. Just like the sun dribbling on the crown of Lexa’s hair. 

“Uh-hmmm.” Charlotte suddenly coughed, breaking the trance Clarke had been in. Their entire interaction lasted a total of thirty seconds, at most, but the blonde looked like she traveled through time. “Well, that was subtle…” 

“Char!” Rolling her blue eyes at the shorter girl, Clarke shoved the concealer in Charlotte’s hands. 

“I told you, she is pretty.” The young redhead clicked her tongue and strode away in front of her chaperon. They needed to go to the opposite direction of where Lexa just went, and Clarke was reluctantly trailing behind. “Come on,” Charlotte waved her to walk faster, “she told us to go. Let’s go.” 

“Lexa…” Clarke tested the sound on the tip of her tongue. She probably would never get the chance to call that name, she rationalized to herself. Yet, it had a familiar taste to it, alluring her to believe that the universe had its own way of making things happen. 

 

 

********

Regarding Partially Deceased Syndrome sufferers. 

**Commandment Number 1:**  

All PDS patients must receive treatment until they regain mental capability and stability.

 

**Commandment Number 2:**

Recovered PDS patients must live with a government approved human supervisor in an appointed housing situation for a minimum of six months.

 

 

 

\----------

I'm apparently single again, so now I spend all my meager free time mindlessly roaming the rich land of [Tumblr](http://asiangal-needs-a-pal.tumblr.com/) 

Come say hi and be my friends! 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there's not a lot people reading this story, coz it's really not much and probably confusing for the time being.  
> But I would love to hear your thoughts.

**Author's Note:**

> I posted a summery on Tumblr yesterday, and a couple of friends approved (shoutout to you all), so I'm posting everything I had so far.  
> Since my last multichapter was actually already written (which took over half a year) when I started posting, I won't be able to post one chapter everyday this time unfortunately :/  
> And college starts in three days. I'm such a mess QAQ.


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